We all enjoy a new flavor
But he can never remember you at twenty five
Full of hope and wonder, seeing the world as possible.

He can never hold you knowing what its like to watch you give birth
He can never wake up next to you knowing for sure that you make him whole
He can never feel your hand upon his leg the way that I did and smiled in silence.

In the dark perhaps you'll remember my name
remember the way I sought you in the early hours of morn.

In the light he'll never have what it takes to hold you when hair grays, bones brittle and teeth rot.
In the light he'll never see you as the link that makes all whole and holy.

I wish to swallow you whole. Holding you safe and warm in my belly.
We'd then be largely as one.

You'd travel with me always, but sadly- your hand could never rest on my knee.  Oh how I loved that.

What a conundrum of years.

Amidst the not so silent- jeers: As my bubbles become tears.

Oh folly of the mind

why do you sweep the pieces up from the floor

when they were safely in your hands

now they've crashed into earth and life

clearly sailing to the bottom of the well

no longer able to breathe in our hearts.

The vase

was bought for a fair value


The price

love, hate, joy and tears

years


trials and tributaries

veins filled to the brim


Now the vase

has been knocked

from its base


It’s still ours

as long as it does not reach the floor

If it reaches the floor

A million pieces it will become


There’s a time and a place

to catch that vase

to stop the fall

but the heart is weak

the mind is wicked and belligerent and confused


If the vase can not be caught

all will be alone until it is reborn

the wheel will roll hard and fast

from its foundation

no longer producing

what it produced

for a decade of holiday seasons


Oh folly of the mind

why do you sweep the pieces up from the floor

when they were safely in your hands

now they've crashed into earth and life

clearly sailing to the bottom of the well

no longer able to breathe in our hearts.

Like metal to the magnet.

Drawn like butter for lobster.

Like sand to the shore

As sap to the tree.

But why.

But How.

But when?

Like hops and barley to an ale.

The peak to the mountain.

Sediment to the stream.

Scent to the nose.

Oh My.

Oh wow.

Oh how poignant.

Rocks don't like to be kicked and moved from one place to the other.
Also it is not their favorite to be under ground.
Feel free to skip them on soft water, skipping is enjoyed.

But alas when the rock screams.
Even the loudest screams fall so very far from the target.
And through beating pulse felt throughout its being-
The rock breathes, bleeds, sleeps and cries.

For it must be heard: although there are none to hear.
So in silence and at the flimsy whim of the elements.
The rock just perseveres -
It knows not: what else to do.

I want to watch you write.
Sense the natural and unnatural light in the room.


Browse the books on your shelf.
Feel your mind and body gently rocking back and forth.


Smell the potpourri and candles and the faint hold of cinnamon in the velvet curtains.
Extend my hand to the softness that is the back of your neck.


Hear you sigh and relax.
While you let tiny things safely explode inside your universe.